Tag Archives: Food

Unfortunately, I’m not the type of person who can eat spicy food. If I do, I’ll end up like Harry and Lloyd in Dumb & Dumber, squirting ketchup, mustard, and any other condiment to cool off my mouth. Or even worse, I’ll end up like Reuben in Along Came Polly and sweat profusely. So, when I’m eating out I rarely order chili or I at least annoy the server with questions regarding its hotness: On a scale from 1 to 10, how hot would you say the chili is? Are chili peppers and jalapenos used? Can I taste a sample? Because I get eye rolls from both the server and whomever I’m eating with, I try to refrain from ordering chili altogether.

But the fact is I love everything about chili: veggies, beans, flavor. It’s hearty and perfect after a day of skiing, ice climbing, or winter running. And, it’s one of those meals that only requires one pot and one hour. Easy preparation, easy cooking, and easy cleaning.

Since I’m spending Christmas with my partner’s meat-eating (and I mean meat-eating) family, I decided we all could use a hefty veggie dish. (Of course, while I was cooking my vegetarian chili, my “brother-in-law” was making bacon wrapped venison, but that’s another story). I decided to make vegetarian chili with tempeh. I adapted this recipe from a number of google searches and my own tastes. It was a big hit, even among the bacon and venison eaters! And, it has a lot of flavor without being too spicy (no sweating involved). In other words, it’s “chill chili.”

Here’s what you’ll need to serve about 8:

olive oil

2 packages of tempeh (I used soy tempeh)

4 tablespoons of soy sauce

2 onions, chopped

3 bay leaves

1 tablespoon ground cumin

3 tablespoons dried oregano

1 tablespoon salt

2 stalks celery, chopped

2 green, yellow, or red bell peppers, chopped

3 cloves garlic, chopped

2 (4 ounce) cans chopped green chili peppers, drained

3 (28 ounce) cans whole peeled tomatoes, crushed

chili powder

ground black pepper

1 (15 ounce) can kidney beans, drained

1 (15 ounce) can garbanzo beans, drained

1 (15 ounce) can black beans

1 (15 ounce) can whole kernel corn

Here’s what you do:

1. In a bowl, crumble your tempeh and mix with soy sauce, set aside.

2. Heat olive oil over medium heat and toss in onions and garlic. After a few minutes, season with bay leaves, cumin, oregano, and salt. Then, add celery, bell peppers, and chili peppers. Let simmer for about 5 minutes.

3. Mix in tempeh. Cover and let simmer for 5 minutes.

4. Toss in tomatoes, all beans, chili powder (I used about 1/3 cup), and black pepper. Mix well, cover, and simmer for about 45 minutes.

5. Stir in corn and let simmer for 5 more minutes. Then, taste and season as need be! I added a bit more salt and pepper at the end.

Like this:

I have a tendency to collect cookbooks from restaurants I’ve never eaten at. I think it’s because I like to think about food as part of a story. The patron sits upright in her booth slightly tilted over the menu while her eating partner finds her own way to get comfortable reading tonight’s options. She chooses a dish that reflects her mood at a particular moment and a dish that she hopes will give her some sort of satisfaction, whether it’s the satisfaction of flavor, nutrition, sweetness, or satiation. She makes her choice and carries on with that night’s conversation topic: job, family, recent adventures, emotions, plans. In the meantime a perfect stranger works fervently in the kitchen, aiming to please a person whose entire being is a mystery. What flavors does she like? What are her expectations? How is her disposition? And then the dish travels, from one stranger to another and one story to another, saying everything in a single spoonful.

Sometimes I like to be a bit dramatic (and perhaps a bit romantic), but I find mystery in cookbooks from faraway restaurants. Tonight, I made two dishes from the Moosewood Restaurant in Ithaca, NY. A few months ago a friend lent me Moosewood’s cookbook and I made Lentil Walnut Burgers. Then, over Thanksgiving a close friend of the family gave me a copy. It’s fate. I was meant to cook these dishes. (Ok, I’m done being cheesy).

Both these dishes are fabulous. The Sesame Spinach is simple with little prep time and even less cooking time. The Stuffed Potatoes are just as simple but certainly not a dish to make if you’re hungry. And if you are hungry, don’t leave chips and salsa out while you cook … oops.

The stuffed potato recipe calls for baking potatoes but because sweet potatoes are, well, sweet and significantly more nutritious, I decided to substitute. Here is what you’ll need for the stuffed potatoes to serve 2:

2 plump sweet potatoes

2 cups corn kernels

1 cup cooked pinto beans

2 cups salsa

½ cup cilantro (if you don’t like cilantro then opt out but note that I disapprove)

salt and pepper

1/3 can sliced black olives, pitted

And here’s what you do (note: I manipulated the recipe, as usual):

Preheat oven to 400. Slice potatoes in half lengthwise.

Bake, cut side down, on a lightly greased baking sheet for about 35 minutes or until soft.

To make the corn and bean stuffing, combine corn, beans, salsa, and cilantro in bowl and mix well.

Once the potato halves are done, scoop out the centers but leave ¼ inch of pulp on the skin.

Mash the scooped-out potato and mix with your stuffing. Refill the potato skins.

Bake for 15-20 minutes. Once done, sprinkle with salt, pepper, and olives if you like.

Here’s what you’ll need for the sesame spinach:

20 ounces of fresh spinach

2 tablespoons of sesame seeds

2 teaspoons of sugar

1 tablespoon of soy sauce

And here’s what you do:

On medium heat, roast sesame seeds in a frying pan. Stir regularly and only allow them to get golden brown (about 3-4 minutes).

If you have a mortar and pestle (which I don’t), grind seeds and sugar together. If you’re light on the kitchenware like me, put seeds and sugar between two pieces of wax paper and use your rolling pin. If you don’t have a rolling pin, well, stomp on them?

Jeremy's job, note the man-hands

Add soy sauce and make a paste.

Although Moosewood says to steam the spinach, I love sautéed spinach, so I put a little olive oil in a pan and sautéed. Mix in the paste and you’re done!

I look forward to the day when I eat these dishes at Moosewood and think about my little story of cooking them in my little kitchen and eating them with my little boyfriend (he is kinda small).

I have an Irish Catholic partner that is obsessed with latkes. We’ve had latkes for dinner twice this week, once last week, and one other time this month. We have leftovers for breakfast and lunch, and a new bag of potatoes always seems to make its way into my kitchen.

It’s Hanukkah, so I figured now is a perfect time to share my simple, traditional latke recipe for those curious Irish Catholics whom have never tried this potato pancake—a pancake filled with history, tradition, spirit, and, of course, fat.

First, to get into the “spirit,” I urge you to watch this parody video of a not-so-good pop song that has recently gone viral. It played loudly while we made latkes tonight, and I have to say, I was tempted to “flip my latke in the air.”

I have to put a disclaimer on this recipe. I have not tried to make this healthy. Unlike my usual dishes, this one does not substitute wheat flour for white, does not omit egg, does not use soy instead of sour cream, and does use a lot of canola oil. It’s a killer, I know. But it’s for tradition, right? Oh so tasty tradition.

In addition to the history of latkes (and the history of Hanukkah for that matter), latkes have a history in my home. Latkes have always been that meal that everyone in the family—mom, dad, brother, dog—contributes to. It happened once a year while I was young (with maybe a sneaky “faux-Hanukkah” in July), and it was always a meal that could not go wrong. So when my partner, Jeremy, got hooked on latkes during a recent visit to my brother’s, I knew he’d be welcomed into the family. And I knew our once-a-year tradition would start transcending time.

I have used Russet and Yukon Gold potatoes, and I like both. If you’re too indecisive to make that decision on your own, go with Yukon (because they’re pretty).

Plan on using three medium-sized potatoes per person. (First timers will eat until sick. All others will want leftovers). Use the following recipe to feed 3-4.

Throw your potatoes and 1 onion into your food processor. If you don’t have a processor, abort now and make some pasta.

Squeeze and drain your potatoes/onion until all excess moisture is gone.

Note: This is Jeremy's hairy man-hand, not mine.

In a bowl, immediately add 2-3 tablespoons of sour cream to your potatoes. This will ensure they will not brown. Then, add about 1/3 cup of flour, salt and pepper, one egg, and ½ cup of breadcrumbs. Note: All of these measurements will vary slightly. If it seems too wet to make patties, add more breadcrumbs.

Mix well, form patties, and place in heated canola oil (medium heat). If you use olive oil, they will burn.

Once golden brown, flip.

I always put a towel (or paper towels) on a baking sheet and let the latkes lose some of the oil before serving.

Latkes are traditionally served with sour cream and apple sauce. (Homemade applesauce is highly recommended).

Although I’m going to have to cut Jeremy off from his weekly indulgence of latkes, it certainly is nice to spread some tradition, especially since I’m not so much a traditional gal.

Entertaining 18 Italians for three days is no small feat. Well, the entertaining comes easy; it is the feeding that takes preparation, dedication, good music, and a diverse menu. I’ve been put in charge of the “vegetarian menu,” under the supervision of mom of course. Full recipes will follow shortly, as I will spend most of Wednesday cooking, so here is a little teaser! All will be homemade. (This is only for Day 1: Thanksgiving Day. The Italian Thanksgiving will be on Friday and will include traditional Italian dishes! To be continued…).

Like this:

I’m like Bubba from Forrest Gump when it comes to having an overload of recipes for one ingredient. Instead of a shrimpatic, I’m a nutatic. I like nuts raw, roasted, and baked. I like nut dressings, nut frostings, and nut pies. I eat nuts in breads and I eat nuts in chocolate. I make veggie burgers with nuts and pancakes with nuts. If I have a midnight snack, it’s usually a handful of nuts, and when I go for a hike or a climb I carry nut bars. (And, my family has always called me “the squirrel” since I just nibble on nuts and hoard them in my purses and pockets.)

As I was sitting in my kitchen last night with an almost-empty fridge and a rumble in my belly, I looked at my shelf of nuts: pecans, almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts. And in the back row, all alone and untouched, was a bottle of cashews. If there is one nut that I notoriously ignore, it’s the poor little cashew. So, here’s my Ode to a Cashew.

I’ve heard of cashew sauce recipes, but I’ve never made one, and for some reason I always disregard the cashew dish sometimes found at restaurants. Feeling a bit adventurous, I decided to take out all that was in the fridge and concoct a cashew sauce for my package of extra firm tofu.

Although it doesn’t look too glamorous, it was delicious—especially if you have a sweet tooth like me. It is certainly blog worthy and highly recommended. Jeremy, boyfriend of little faith, quickly changed his expression of skepticism to an expression of delight when he took the first bite.

(As usual, when I make up my own recipes I do not measure. So, I will do my best to describe the amounts of each ingredient, but you might just need to do it the Italian way and eyeball it!)

Here’s what you’ll need:

Extra firm tofu

Cashews (1 cup or so)

Soy sauce (3+ tbs)

½ Lime

Garlic (1 clove)

Fresh Ginger (2 fingers – I call them fingers, what are they actually called?)

Apple Cider Vinegar (4+tbs)

Water (1/3 cup)

Soymilk (2 tbs or so)

Pepper to taste

And here’s what you do:

Drain the tofu and let sit on a towel. (I sprinkle with a bit of salt to help it dry). Pour your cashews, soy sauce, limejuice, garlic, ginger, and vinegar into your food processor.

Spin on high so that it is as creamy as possible.

Start adding some water and some soymilk. Spin. Keep adding and spinning until you get a creamy sauce that is thin enough to run smoothly off of your spoon. (Note: the sauce will thicken as it bakes, so you don’t want it too thick to start). Add some pepper to taste.

Once the tofu has been drained, cut large pieces, perhaps ¾ inch thick. Put a little oil at the bottom of your baking dish. Then, smear a layer of sauce on the dish and place the tofu pieces on top. Pour the rest of the sauce over the tofu.

Bake at 350 for about 10 minutes. You’ll see the sauce start to brown a bit. Mix it up and bake for another 10 minutes.

If you’re a nut for nuts and you have a bit of a sweet tooth, this makes a fabulous quick, healthy dish. Next time I am going to put it over a bed of sautéed kale or chard and eat it with a glass of red wine.

Bubba would be proud.

Want some facts? I found Organic Cashew Nuts that outlines the health benefits of eating cashews!

I was definitely one of those picky-eater young kids who only ordered chicken fingers at restaurants and only ate broccoli if it had mounds of (processed) cheese on it. I wouldn’t eat fish and I certainly was not going to eat anything that looked or smelled like fish. And God forbid if my broccoli touched my chicken fingers on the plate. But, as I grew older I began to find solace in our acres of garden, nibbling at snap peas, cherry tomatoes, and peppers. I’d eat barrels of berries and get lost in rows of zucchini, carrots, eggplant, and squash. As a teen I tried new foods as long as I could recognize them, and I became slightly more interested in healthy eating.

And now I’m 27 and a bit obsessed with healthy eating. I jump at the chance to try a new vegetarian dish, and one of my top 3 hobbies is cooking. I have a garden full of kale, swiss chard, turnips, carrots, and peppers. I jump at the chance to manipulate a recipe and do something, as Jeremy calls it, “weird.” So, how is it that I have never eaten Brussels-sprouts? Never. I never even thought to eat Brussels-sprouts. I don’t order them, I don’t buy them, and I’ve never been to anyone’s dinner party who served them. Yet, they’re so cute and small. And, according to one of my favorite food books (The 150 healthiest Foods on Earth), Brussels-sprouts get a gold star. The American Cancer Society marks them as a “key dietary recommendation” and they are high in a number of compounds that I cannot pronounce—isothiocyanates and sulforaphane. It’s time.

I have spent the past few weeks looking for vegetarian thanksgiving recipes to share with my (huge) Italian family this year for the holiday. I discovered Well’s Thanksgiving Series in the New York Times and decided to try the Maple-Roasted Brussels-Sprout recipe. (And for those of you who don’t know me, it’s important to note that I not only love and crave maple syrup daily, but I also take great pride in it, especially after becoming a Vermonter).

This might be one of the only times I followed a recipe almost completely. It is so simple and easy that the only thing I decided to change was the amount of maple syrup. I, of course, doubled it.

I bought a stalk of sprouts rather than a bag of individuals (mostly because it looks so cool).

I broke them off the stalk, peeled any dead leaves, and washed them in cold water. Then, I cut them in half.

I mixed about 1/2 cup of olive oil with some pepper and sea salt and then coated the sprouts in the mixture. After foiling a baking sheet, I spread the sprouts out and roasted at 375 for about 10 minutes. Then, flip the sprouts over with a spatula and roast for another 10-15 minutes.

In a bowl, I poured 4 or 5 tablespoons of maple syrup and then mixed the sprouts in until all were covered.

Put the sprouts back on the baking sheet and roast for 5-10 minutes. (Note, my roasting time differed from the orginial recipe as I saw my sprouts were browning quickly).

Finally, roast some hazelnuts, chop them up, and mix them with the sprouts.

Serve them hot!

They are sweet and flavorful. And they will certainly make our Thanksgiving table this year.

To me sprouts are everything, i don’t know what life would be like without them. I eat sprouts in the morning with my sugar puffs, sprout butties at dinner then always have sprouts for tea. I especially like sprouts and ice cream. Sproutastick!!!!

Like this:

I had one of those nights when the fridge looked scarce and scattered. The few yummy ingredients on the second shelf just didn’t seem to go together, and I was getting frustratingly hungry. I searched my windowsill of jars and even they looked a bit empty. In the back row, however, I found a full jar of red lentils. Remembering that I had found a lentil sauce recipe a few months ago, I decided I had enough ingredients to make my own lentil tomato sauce. And I have to say, my favorite nights of cooking are ones like tonight when you think you have nothing to eat and you make a delicious, healthy, hearty meal!

(And if you’ve read my past recipe post on lentil burgers, you know I have a thing for lentils. They are a healthy substitute for meats, and their texture works so well with a variety of foods, like burgers, sauces, burritos, and salads. I am a lentil cheerleader).

Recipe:

Boil a few cups of water with one cup of red lentils. Once boiling, lower heat to a simmer and cover. It takes about 20 minutes for lentils to soften, and you see them getting less chunky and more mushy (mushy in a good way!).

While the lentils cook, cut up any veggies you have. I had some carrots from my garden, a zucchini, asparagus, and onion. I minced a clove of garlic and sautéed the onion and garlic until the onions looked clear. Because vegetables hold their nutrition more if they are steamed than sautéed, I put the carrots, zucchini, and asparagus in the steamer for about 10 minutes.

Once the lentils are soft and drained, add a can of diced tomatoes and a can of tomato sauce. I poured in a few tablespoons of soy sauce and seasoned with basil, oregano, and pepper. Throw in all veggies, cover, and let simmer while you cook your whole-wheat spaghetti.

Bon Appetite!

Some notes on lentils:

Many vegetarian books agree that lentils are a top-five healthiest food. They carry a large amount of plant-based protein, and they are one of the best vegetable sources for iron. Types of lentils include red, green, yellow, and black. Some lentils carry more fiber than others, but all lentils have jam-packed nutrients and minerals. Be sure to rinse your lentils before cooking and do not eat them raw (they carry phytic acid and tannins).

My favorite way to use lentils is in burritos. When spending two weeks camping in the California dessert, 60% of my meals were lentil burritos. And I still eat them!

Like this:

Challah, matzah balls, kugel, and latkes made up the dinner table at least a few times each year in our little ranch house in the woods or at Granny and Papa’s apartment that sat adjacent to Temple. Charoset, hamentashen, and apples and honey peeped out for their respective holidays. And let’s not forget the meats: brisket, corned beef on rye, and chopped liver had their moments under the candles on the table. Food alone can represent a culture that has been slowly slipping away from me over the years. Each food represents a time of year, or a blessing, or a celebration, or a moment of bereavement. Food nestled itself into memories of my grandparents, of Friday nights, of holidays, of visits to Florida.

Religion, with a capital “R”, has always been a topic that I’ve pushed away with a strong fist. There is too much hate associated with Religion that has made me (somewhat shamefully) avoid the conversation or at least keep the conversation within my own walls. Religious culture, however, has flowed in and out of my life. Just as I went through “identity phases,” as my mom called them, such as the hippy phase, angry phase, activist phase, trendy phase, earthy phase, my religious culture has shifted in haphazard directions. I felt so connected with my culture in second grade that I angrily insisted on celebrating Hanukkah in class alongside Christmas (nowadays this is a political statement; as a second grader, I just wanted people to eat my latkes). In fifth grade I did make it political and wrote a passionate letter to my principal demanding that a nondenominational candle replace the Christmas tree in the gym. But, for my Bat Mitzvah, I dreaded practicing my Torah portion and only became excited about the party that followed the service. In high school, I attended the High Holy Day services through force (often bringing a novel to hide in my prayer book). In college, I revisited my culture as I found “progressive” Jewish services in Amherst. I suddenly found myself shopping for Israeli jewelry and pulled out the pieces that once belonged to my Jewish grandmother—a Star of David necklace and her handmade Russian compass necklace. I drove four hours home to attend services with my family, and I truly believed that first and foremost my identity was a Jewish identity. But then, life started as an adult and I again immersed myself into new cultures of cities, jobs, and friends.

Throughout my early and mid twenties, I didn’t do anything “Jewish.” I never attended services, never honored the holidays (in fact, my best friend who is a Christian always had to remind me of them), and frankly just found religious culture to be a negative influence on my mind.

But, a few months ago my dad shared with me a tape from my grandmother that she recorded before she passed away. In the tape, my grandmother speaks to her three children and tells them her family history, beginning with the persecution of our ancestors in a small village in Russia through death and disease in China and ending with her life in America. As I sat in my wooden stool in my little Vermont apartment with the family tree spread out over the kitchen counter and dad’s 1980 tape player illuminating Granny’s voice, I teared up. I cried not only because I was hearing her voice for the first time in 15 years, but also I cried because I felt so selfish and unappreciative of a culture that has been fighting to survive and a culture that has only survived because of those who constitute it. She used phrases like “we people” and “our people,” phrases that have been so removed from my reality of religion and life in general. And I could go on and on about how privileged I grew up and how privileged I’ll probably remain, and I could resent the life I’ve led thus far now knowing the true suffering my ancestors had to experience, and I could angrily and politically discuss what my American culture has impeded on my being. But, as always, it comes back to food.

Since listening to Granny’s tape, I’ve replenished my interest in Jewish culture—not because I feel like I should or feel guilty that I left it behind, but because there is something very comforting in the fact that “our people” share food. Food that represents a life grander than my reality, and grander than the reality I’ll probably ever know.

I write this “unlike me” post today because I attended the “HardLox Festival” in Asheville this afternoon with my new friend Andrea (who I have to say, seems to have a much more meaningful grasp on “our people” than I do).

Although my vegetarianism and lactose intolerance limited my food choices, I still managed to eat plenty of latkes and hamentashen, and I of course brought home a loaf of challah.

The remainder of Andrea and Matt's "spread"

So I guess the place I’m in now is a place of appreciation. I appreciate the pleasant and insightful memories these foods bring back to me. I appreciate the community that “our people,” and our food, maintain. And I appreciate the history that food brings with it, one bite at a time. (Ending with a cliché is usually not my style, but a pun and a cliché? Yes, please).

When a skeptic of vegetarianism exhausts all (few) logical arguments against vegetarianism, I have found that he (and maybe she) relies on one final, silly assumption: vegetarians only want to eat foods that look like meat, so they, in this syllogism, really want to be meat-eaters. Maybe it’s not so much an assumption as much as it is just a way for that meat-eater cynic to feel better about the slab of beef he just ingested. Either way, it’s silly. But…maybe not totally untrue.

Unlike me, my partner Jeremy is a vegetarian that still has meat cravings. His cravings always occur after a long day of rock climbing/guiding when he, of course, forgot to bring a lunch. About once a week I get a call from him on his ride home where he desperately asks, “Can you please talk me out of stopping at McDonalds?” That’s the easy part. The hard part is to remind him how delicious and fun vegetarian cooking can be and how it can easily satisfy his craving.

When I received this call yesterday, his craving for the day was for sausage. (Could it be any worse of a craving? Ew.) I decided to get creative. I began searching the Internet for vegetarian sausage recipes, and after some mixing and matching I created this Tempeh Sausage recipe. And it was delicious. And healthy. And NOT pig intestines.

Here’s how it happened:

First, crumble up a package of tempeh in a pot and cover slightly with water and a few tablespoons of soy sauce. Bring to boil and then simmer for about 10 minutes.

Drain any remaining water. Pour a can of white beans/northern beans into the tempeh and set aside.

In a small bowl, mix some spices to your liking. I mixed sage, cayenne pepper, thyme, and a pinch of nutmeg. Add a bit of soy sauce and pour the mixture into your tempeh and beans. Mix well. Then, add about two spoons of tomato paste to make everything stick together.

Finally, add a cup or so of bread crumbs. Mix well.

Form some patties and pan fry your sausage in a few tablespoons of olive oil. (They almost look like potato latkas which are pretty much my favorite Jewish food. Aside from hamentashen, of course).

And since we were having sausage for dinner, I decided to make a “breakfast for dinner” out of it. Vegetarian pancakes and sausages!

So yes, I like cooking vegetarian meals that resemble meat meals. It’s not because I want to eat meat, Mr. Skeptic, but rather because it creates unique and engaging food challenges. And, well, because Jeremy sporadically does want pig organs, tissues, and intestines.

Like this:

Whenever I hear “lentil” I have a vision of my Jewish grandmother speaking Yiddish to my grandfather in their Florida apartment in about 1990 while I sit at the table eating a pink grapefruit. “Lentil” isn’t even Yiddish, and I’m not even sure my grandparents even spoke Yiddish. But something about “lentil” screams Yiddish—like kugel and blintzes (the only two dishes my grandmother actually did make). (Or maybe I just created this Judaic vision because “lentil” rhymes with “Yentl,” and who is more Jewish than Barbara?)

So even though “lentil” has no real ground in my Jewish upbringing, I’m still going to think of my Granny Ann when I cook with lentils.

And since it has been awhile since I’ve posted any interesting vegetarian dishes, here is a recipe for “Walnut-Lentil Burgers” that I adapted from Moosewood’s cookbook, a little restaurant in Ithaca. I borrowed the cookbook from our fabulous Asheville-born neighbor Laura who spent less than a year in Ithaca before she swore off winter for good and moved back to NC (and who can blame her?).

I manipulated the ingredients quite a bit (as usual), but the concept is the same. First, rinse a few cups of lentils and boil them until soft. In the meantime, cut up any veggies that you’d like in a burger. I used onion, green pepper, and carrots because that’s all I had.

Throw them all in a pan with about a tablespoon of oil and cook until a bit soft (not too soft to be mushy but not too hard to be crunchy). Throw in some pepper, basil, parsley, and dry mustard. I think those who like a little kick to their burgers (not me) would enjoy some jalepenos or hot sauce here. And of course, chop up a cup or so of walnuts and toss them in the pan.

When lentils are done, mash them and add your veggie/walnut mixture. Then add either bread crumbs or wheat germ (I used a little more than a cup of wheat germ).

Mix well, cover, and put in the refrigerator for about an hour. After an hour, patty them up and fry them in a pan! The recipe says you may broil them but ew, don’t. Fry them so they get warm throughout and a bit crunchy on each side.

I served them on honey oat bread and a side of mixed greens.

I recommend trying my little Yiddish-inspired lentil burgers, and if you have room, eat a grapefruit for dessert.